Into My Bloodstream
by Rayne Fenfire
Summary: A suicidal Daryl meets a beat-up Carol and for some reason their brief encounters are exactly what each of them needed. Let's call it "Hospital!AU" - 100% Walker-free - Rated M for language, violence and lots of depressing stuff. Daryl's PoV.


**Into My Bloodstream**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the sweethearts used in the following piece of fiction. No profit has been, is or will be made with it. It was greatly inspired by the song **Bloodstream** by _Stateless._

**Warning: **Rated M for suicidal tendencies, (domestic) violence and language.

**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

* * *

When Daryl Dixon woke up in the hospital, his first impulse was to throw a tantrum. He wanted to cry and scream and break things and faces and tear those tubes out of his veins and smash his head into the next best wall – to do just _something_ to get this crippling despair and core-wrecking anger out of his system. But his body wouldn't let him.

He felt empty and weak, like his mere body weight was enough to keep him down, pressing him into the mattress, even. Every shallow breath he took made him want to puke and the way too bright room surrounding him was hurting his only half-open eyes. He blinked a few times and even though his vision was exactly getting clearer the almost steady beeping of an ECG was.

He moaned, attempting to relieve some of this overall sickness that was tormenting his body and mind, but helplessness and rage towards himself and stupid-ass fucktard that had called the ambulance soon enhanced it to a groan. He managed to move his hands and he spent every last ounce of energy to raise his arms and slap his flat hands onto his face, covering his eyes as the curses started climbing out of his sour throat: "Sweet Mary _mother_ BITCH O' FUCK!" He yelled and screamed and it hurt like someone was rubbing a thin layer of the finest glass fragments over the inside of his throat, but that was good. He was alive. He was alive and without a clue what he was supposed to do with a failed suicide attempt, so he might as well pick up the fight again. At least, that'd keep him busy.

Just like before. _Hoo-fuckin'-ray!_

* * *

His little outbreak there didn't go unnoticed. Some doctor walked in to congratulate him on waking up at which he simply snorted. Hadn't exactly been the plan after all.

"When will I get rid of those?" Daryl asked, his voice low, raucous and half stuck in his throat.

"As soon as you're stable enough to get up and keep standing on your own, Mr. Dixon" the doc replied, smiling the disgustingly charming smile of an _Emergency Room_ actor. "Don't worry. The aftermath of your overdose shouldn't last longer than a few days, a week at the most." He scanned through the papers on his clipboard. "After all, none of your values suggests that you're a regular user."

"First time for everythin', I guess."

"Right. My point, though, is – since this seemed to be indeed your very first contact with methamphetamine – that there are no long-term damages to be expected. You should be back on your feet in no time."

"Lucky me" he grumbled sarcastically.

"The amount we had to get out of your system, though… I'm sorry, I have to ask: Are you at risk of suicide, Mr. Dixon?"

Daryl almost laughed at that. "Heh. Nah, I'm not at risk o' anythin'. Death o' thirst, maybe. Meth just ain't as much fun as I thought it would."

The doc seemed content with this answer; at least, his shoulders relaxed a little. "Alright, Mr. Dixon. I'll have a nurse bring you some water, some slices of bread. Don't push yourself though. If your stomach can't take it yet, that's absolutely normal."

Daryl made an understanding noise.

"Shall we inform your brother that your awake, Mr. Dixon?"

Daryl frowned with confusion. "How-…?"

The doc chuckled. "I'm sorry if this is all too much input at once. According to my documents, Merle Dixon was the one who called the ambulance. When they arrived, though, you were alone, Mr. Dixon. That man is your brother, is he not?"

"Uh, yeah." Great confusion mingled with even greater anger, but his body was too exhausted to make the havoc visible. He found it hard to imagine that Merle would have called an ambulance for him. On the other hand… the dumbass probably just panicked, grabbed the rest of his stash and got the hell out of there – making the call to calm his consciousness. Yah. That did sound like Merle.

"So… shall we contact him? He might be able to bring you some clothes, personal things?" the doc tried again.

Daryl snorted with cynical amusement and regretted it the very instant. Damn, everything hurt. "Yeah. Sure. Good luck with that."

* * *

Two days passed until he was able to get up without collapsing or gagging right away. Which was progress, he assumed. Eating wasn't really an option though. The mere thought of food was enough to make him want to throw up; just like the sight of the meals they had brought to his room. That didn't, however, keep him from dragging his feet to the cafeteria. Getting his glass of orange juice all on his own gave him an almost infantile amount of pride and the equally embarrassing feeling of independence. Fuck him. When exactly had he become _that_ pathetic?!

He took a glass of orange juice and carried it to a table at a window. Atlanta wasn't the prettiest view he had ever seen, with its tall buildings and grey, busy streets, but the sky was blue and the sun was shining and he drew an odd feeling of peace out of it.

They had gotten here because Merle had claimed to know some thug guy with a bike shop. Biker guy didn't seem to know about Merle though. And with Merle being Merle things escalated quickly. As they always did. And Daryl was sick and tired of being part of it. The roaming, the fighting, the trouble, the running, the fixing… Merle wasn't easy to look out for but he was his brother and the only person in the world that cared enough about him to keep him around. And vice-versa. Daryl just didn't have the heart to leave. Until recently, when he had been wasted enough to think that stealing from Merle's stash would be a good way to go out. It wasn't. Apart from the fact that it didn't even work in the first place, that was.

Now, sitting here in his white-grey-ish hospital pajamas (of course no one had stopped by to bring him anything) being completely detached from all of that – he felt light. Empty and exhausted, still, but also light. The feeling wouldn't last long in that sterile cage called hospital, but for the time being it was a nice change.

Something crashed behind him. The clanking and chinking of cutlery and dishes hitting the ground rang in his ears, followed by the deep growl of some pissed guy: "Goddamn it, woman! Watch the hell out!"

Daryl turned his upper body and saw a bulky, red-faced man snorting at a trembling, skinny lady that was cowering down already, trying to gather the things and foods that had scattered from her tray. The guy kept rebuking her, while she stuttered apologies, so thin and shaky, that it took him a while to notice she was speaking at all.

"Oy!" Daryl got up before he knew what the shit he was doing and almost fell back against his table. The quick movement made him dizzy but it wasn't remotely enough to stop the Dixon temper. And Daryl's didn't respond well to bullies. He walked up to the scene that was bravely ignored by the other patients and personal. "The lady already said she's sorry, man. Just leave her be!"

He underlined his words with a fuck-off-gesture and that was enough to make the guy arrogantly tottering away. "Pfft. Asshole." Daryl snorted, then turned to look at the shivering limp of misery to his feet. He kneeled down, joining her on the floor. "Wait, I got this" he assured her and picked up the cutlery and some shards of her dish to collect them on her tray.

"Thanks…" she whispered and as Daryl looked up a rather pleasant surprise hit him right in the gut. Her short hair slightly curled up at the ends and its grey color had him assuming that she'd be some old lady. But judging from her features she couldn't possibly be older than him. A faint smile brightened her face and almost made him oversee the unshed tears shimmering in her big blue eyes. She also had a really cute nose and-… _Dixon, what the fuck?!_

Daryl pulled a face that was stuck somewhere between returning the smile and pure disgust at himself. "Nah. Don't mention it." He looked back on the floor, focusing on the rest of the shards and splinters.

She wiped over her eyes with one hand and Daryl noticed that her bathrobe was hiding her left arm being in a sling. "I-… I'll get some tissues, wait a minute."

He kept cleaning up her mess and a few moments later she returned with some paper tissues, awkwardly got back on the floor and started to wipe up her mashed potatoes and split water. "So sorry for the mess. Typical clumsy me…" she tried to chuckle it off. It sounded like something she did out of habit and not because of some genuine overreaction or guilt.

"Stop."

"…what?"

"Apologizin'. 's not a big deal." Daryl sounded a little more annoyed than he had intended to and they both kept clearing the floor in silence.

* * *

One evening, when Daryl passed the hospital's chapel on the way to his room, he could hear someone crying in there, trying to keep it quiet. A woman, if he had to guess. He tried to walk past. Whatever this was about it certainly wasn't his business, so why bother? He shouldn't be here anymore, anyway… But part of him (and that part was a lot bigger than he would ever be able to admit) couldn't help but caring. So after a few seconds of hesitation, he stepped over the door sill. "Hey" he didn't yell, but whispered just loud enough for someone hiding between the benches to hear him. Someone sniveled with surprise and audibly tried to recollect themselves. "You okay?" Daryl squinted his eyes and detected a skinny silhouette sitting in the first row. It was a woman. And she was all alone.

She moved her head, then seemed to remember that she probably wasn't all that visible in the dimmed light of the room. "Yah-… yes. I'm fine, thanks."

He recognized her voice and stepped into the chapel, following an odd pull he couldn't explain. "Hey, ya the lady from cafeteria the other day." He came to a halt next to the bench she was sitting on.

She turned her head and flashed a tiny smile. "Oh. Hey. You following me now?" She tried to joke but obviously wasn't too if she was doing it right.

"Nah, just passed by. Thought I heard ya crying and..." Daryl felt somewhat stupid for checking on her. She wasn't his problem, so no need to make her, right? "Nevermind. I'll just leave ya alone then." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder and at the door he had just come through, while moving to fuck off already_. Fuck him sideways, what was he thinking? Women didn't like guys creeping up on them like that. Fuck, no one liked anyone to creep up on them like that! She wouldn't hide in here at such a late hour if she wanted company, the hell-fuck was wrong with him?!_

"Hey, wait!"

_What?_ He waited, looking at her with a somewhat puzzled expression.

"I didn't mean to send you off, I... Thanks for checking up on me. It's very kind of you."

"Don't mention it."

"You wanna sit?" she offered after a few seconds of silence and Daryl snorted cynically to cover up him shifting from one foot to the other.

"I don't want J.C. to fall off his cross. I ain't exactly the religious type, y'know."

At that she chuckled and it was the sweetest sound Daryl had heard in a while and it got him smirking too and he wanted to slap himself in the face for that.

"Well…" She calmed down again, still smiling. "You do seem like a good person, so I don't think he'd mind."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't know me."

She looked at him. "You don't know me either, yet here you are." She slightly shrugged her shoulders. "I'm Carol. I'm on painkillers and wouldn't mind the company. You?"

"Daryl. An' I haven't smoked in days."

He took a seat next to her, crossing his legs on the bench and she pulled her bathrobe closer around her body.

"So… what happened?" he tried to start a conversation and briefly pointed at her hidden, probably broken arm and whatever other bruises she might be veiling.

"Stairs." She looked at him. "Like I said. Typical clumsy me." He didn't buy it. Not for a second. "What about you? How did you end up here?"

"Some circulatory issue, the doc said." He looked at her. "They just keep me to observe it for a few days." He could see it in her eyes that she didn't buy it either. Not for a second.

And in that moment Daryl felt ridiculously connected to this insecure, fragile woman, he practically knew nothing about, and they kept sitting together in comfortable silence until a nurse send them back to their rooms.

* * *

The following day, Merle showed up at the hospital. Daryl wasn't even really awake yet. Not that he was able to sleep well in his room, anyway. The guy in the other bed sounded like he'd die any second, which only added up to the depressing cage-vibe he was getting from this place.

Anyway, Merle threw some clothes on his face and that was when he jerked right back into the world of the mentally present.

"Good mornin', lil' brother!"

"What the hell?!" He sat up straight and shoved the clothes out of his face. "The fuck are you doin' here, Merle?!" he almost yelled.

"Pickin' ya up, o' course. C'mon, lil' brother, get dressed. We gotta get goin'." Merle seemed agitated, stepping back to peek out of the door, urging him with a gesture to get up. Daryl eyed him with a mixture of wrath, disappointment and… worry. He knew Merle. He either was high and paranoid or in actual trouble and paranoid. Or both.

"Why? What did ya do this time?" he hissed, shoving his blanket aside already. It didn't matter what it was. It didn't matter how much he had wanted to get away from this. Merle whistled. And he'd come running.

Merle whirled around. "They had it comin'! I swear! Said I'd killed ya. Can you believe that?! Killed my own brother! I _saved_ ya!" He pointed at Daryl, then grinned as he seemed to realize something.

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Merle, keep it low. Ya on drugs again."

His brother walked up to him. "Right. An' you would know all 'bout that now, wouldn't ya?" He jabbed his index finger against Daryl's chest, before he seized him by the collar of his white hospital t-shirt. "Ya stole from me, 'lil brother!" There was some twisted kind of pride creeping into his smirk. "Ya got too nosy, ya stole from my stash and pow! Swept ya right off ya feet, didn't it? But here you are. I saved ya."

Daryl leaned back, a half-hearted attempt to get some distance between them, and he nodded. "Yeah, brother. Ya did."

"So, ya comin' home now or what?"

Daryl pushed him away as forcefully as he could. "Would if you'd let me get dressed already" he gnarled and Merle nodded with a content grin, before he turned to wait for him on the other side of the door, keeping watch for enemies that probably didn't even exist.

His brother had gotten him some shorts, a pair of jeans, some old shirt, his black leather jacket and a bandana. He had forgotten about socks, though, but that was okay. He changed into it and followed Merle on the corridor.

"Now, there you are. C'mon. The bike's waitin'." Merle pulled out the keys, threw them up in the air and caught them playfully.

They headed down the corridor and towards the lobby. "Cool" Daryl said with his head kept as low as his voice. Merle just had this effect on him.

They reached the lobby and that was when Daryl's heart skipped a beat.

Carol was there, in the seating area on the left side of the entrance. But she wasn't alone. A little girl with golden hair, maybe twelve years old was hugging her. There also was a man, tall one, puffy face. He looked fed up and from what Daryl could grasp, he was babbling something about her responsibilities and that she needed to come back home, yadda yadda yadda.

Daryl's steps slowed down without him even noticing and they stopped abruptly as he saw the man grabbing her arm, making her wince as he hissed something at her. He wanted to run over and beat the shit out that scumbag, but before his temper could take over he could feel a firm grip around his own arm.

"Quit daydreamin', lil' brother. We need to get outta here."

Daryl turned his head to face Merle, then looked back at Carol, the confused up to scared kid between her and her boyfriend or husband or whatever, who was now cupping her face, obviously trying to _talk some sense into her._ She coiled her head out of his grip and for the briefest moment her eyes met Daryl's. Merle kept dragging him along and he broke the eye contact to shake his brother off.

"A'right, I'm comin'!" he snorted and he stomped out of the hospital without looking back. She wasn't his blood. She wasn't his problem. Merle was.

"Hand me the keys" Daryl demanded as they reached the bike Merle had mentioned earlier.

"Hell no!" Merle closed his fist around the set of keys and turned away from his younger brother to protect them.

"Merle, ya high as shit! I ain't gonna let ya drive anywhere!" Daryl hissed walking up to Merle to wrestle the keys out of his hands. He got a solid elbow to his chin, cursed at the pain and used the opportunity of Merle's puzzled apologies to snatch the keys from him.

"S'alright, man. I ain't no goddamn pussy. Now, get on the bike and I'll find us some place safe."

"No way. That's _my _fuckin' bike and I'll ride it!"

"Hey, brother. You saved me. I'll save you now. No time to argue, we need to get outta here, remember?" Daryl picked up on his paranoid fit and played along. It was the easiest way to get Merle to cooperate.

His older brother raised his hands in defeat. "Okay, a'right. Let's hit the road, then."

* * *

Weeks passed by.

The Dixon brothers moved from one derelict to the other, trying their very best to avoid the guys Merle had pissed off. It was only a matter of time until they had no other choice but to leave Atlanta and start over someplace else. Again. It was a vicious circle.

Until then, though, Daryl worked hard to keep them fed and drunk and that meant stealing a lot. He was better at that than he could possibly be proud of and most of the times he restrained himself to pickpocket some suits who could easily go with a few dollars less, so that he could actually purchase food, clothes, gasoline, cigarettes and all the other jazz they needed to survive._ Heck, yes, he was a goddamn, twisted Robin Hood like that!_

He was on one of his errands, getting some whiskey for Merle and himself, when he noticed a piece of paper with a girl's picture on it posted to the small shop's window. It looked like a self-printed handout and the big, bolt heading read: ** G**

Now, handouts like that weren't that unusual. Sad but true. And thus it took Daryl a while to realize why this one in particular caught his attention. The girl looked familiar. It's been weeks and he had only gotten a brief glimpse at her face but he could have sworn this was the girl he had seen clinging to Carol the day he had left the hospital.

Not his blood. Not his problem.

He tore the handout off the window and took it with him as he left the shop.

* * *

Daryl never told Merle about the missing girl and the handout that he kept in the pocket of his leather jacket. His brother would be pretty damn keen on finding her, as well, he didn't doubt that. He just didn't want to put up with Merle wanting to keep the girl and blackmail her family for money after they had found her.

So he kept his cakehole shut and his eyes peeled for every sign, hint, trace, _thing_ that could turn out to be a lead to her whereabouts. He had her photo printed on the handout and a name – Sophia Peletier – as well as a phone number that people were supposed to call if they had any hints to offer the family. And finally, the text below her photo suggested that she just vanished while playing in the backyard about two days ago. So she either was abducted – or she ran away from home. And after having witnessed that scene of family harmony in the hospital lobby, Daryl was rather certain that it was the latter.

It wasn't much. He didn't know that girl. He didn't know her family. He had practically nothing to work with apart from his own runaway experiences as a kid. And those were from over twenty years ago. But he kept looking anyway.

Two more days and a breeze of fate, a huge amount of dumb luck or a mere coincidence later a small, dirty girl, hiding underneath an oversized hoodie shyly pulled at the hem of his dark plaid shirt as he was standing in front of the instant food section of a supermarket. He looked down at her. She kept her head low and held an apple in her shirt-free hand.

"Can I help ya, kid?" he asked, yet unable to grasp what was happening there.

"Excuse me, sir, I… can I borrow a dollar from you? I'm really hungry…" She didn't dare to look up but she let go of his shirt, cupping her apple with both of her hands. It was a heart-melting picture, really.

Daryl frowned briefly, then looked up and down the corridor they were standing in. "Isn't anyone with ya?"

She slowly shook her head.

"What about ya parents?"

"At home… I think…" She started to shiver.

Daryl blinked, somewhat alarmed. "Then what are ya doin' here all on ya own?" he asked as careful as he was capable of.

And that was when she started sobbing. _Oh fuck._ He couldn't stand women crying, let alone _children, _how the heck was he supposed to handle this? "I-I-I… I don't-… know how to get b-back…" she wept.

"Hey there, squirt." Daryl raised his hands in a manner he hoped to be soothing and he hunkered down in front of her to meet her at eye-level. "Hey…" From this angle he could look underneath her hood and despite all the dirt covering her cheeks and the blond streaks hiding her face, there was no doubt. "You… wouldn't happen to be Sophia, would ya?"

She looked up, staring at him wide-eyed and scared.

"Hey, don't freak out, okay? I'm Daryl. I know ya mom, Carol. We've all been searchin' for ya for days" he explained quickly, trying his best to ignore that most of those words felt like a big, creepy lie.

"I don't know you. I've never seen you before" she sobbed, stepping away from him.

"I know. I've met ya mom at the hospital. Few weeks ago. I think her arm was broken or somethin'?"

Sophia kept staring at him profoundly doubtfully, but she didn't run. That was something. "So… you do know my mom?"

Daryl nodded. "'Nough to know she's worried sick about ya." He searched his pockets and got a neatly folded, yet pretty damaged piece of paper out of his jacket to unfold it in front of her and confront her with the handout that was supposed to help in the search for her. Sophia stepped closer again, only close enough though to snap the paper out of his hands and read it herself as if only she was able to determine its authenticity. "There's a phone number on it. We could call her right away."

Sophia opened her mouth to respond but her stomach was quicker. It growled demandingly and she lowered her head in shame.

"After we made sure ya don't starve in the process, I guess."

Daryl got back up and started searching the rows, until he realized that Sophia wasn't even thinking about making a move to follow him. She just stood there and clung to her apple and the handout, looking at him with big, insecure eyes.

Daryl groaned with annoyance. "C'mon, squirt. You gotta tell me what you like or I'll just throw a bunch o' candy bars at ya." That helped. She still kept her distance from him, but she followed him around the store and pointed shyly at a few things she'd like to eat. _What the hell was he doing here?_

* * *

"I've never been that far from home before." Sophia took another bite of one of her Twinkies. "Where are we?"

"Edgewood. Coan Park shouldn't be far from here. Just like the next callbox. See?" Daryl replied, pointing at the one conveniently waiting for them at the end of the road. Sophia nodded carefully, taking another bite of her Twinkie, then a sip out of her bottle of water.

They reached the callbox and Daryl had her calling her parents herself. Since she wasn't going to go with him anywhere further and still keeping her distance, he thought it easier to just have them pick her up – after all, he wouldn't have gone with some shady redneck, either. She was just being smart about it. He leaned against the outside of the box, while Sophia dialed a number that contained of more than three digits. Now, there was a relief. He looked down the street, observing the people taking walks, running errands, leading their more or less busy lives as he lit a cigarette. He could hear Sophia's voice, muffled by the glass of the callbox and soon choked by tears again. He briefly glanced over his shoulder and saw her nodding, vigorously, while she just kept sobbing, smearing the tears across her dirty face. He couldn't make out the words but he didn't need to to imagine that it was her dad on the other side of the line, yelling at her. He frowned and redirected his focus on the street. Maybe this really wasn't such a great idea, after all…

The little girl toddled out of the callbox, trying to dry her eyes with her sleeves.

"Someone's comin' to pick ya up?" Daryl looked down at her (inwardly begging her to stop crying for fuck's sake) and she nodded. He puffed his cigarette. "A'right then. You don't need me to stay an' wait here, do ya?" he said, making a move to leave as he forced himself not to look at this heartbreaking image of a scared child. Goddamn, why was he doing this? Getting involved and all? He had enough on his plate as it was. Merle was waiting for him to return, so they could get shit-face drunk and collect some more reasons to get thrown out of town or whatever that simple-minded piece of shit had planned for them for today. He was the last guy on earth who should be babysitting lost, little girls.

"No! Please wait… Daryl... right?"

Yet, here he was.

He turned around, took the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled some smoke. "I don't want to be alone… when my dad arrives…" she admitted quietly - and seriously what was he supposed to say to that?

He huffed and turned around to her. "Jeez…okay, fine. Let's sit on that bench there and wait for ya folks then."

He nodded towards the thing and together they walked over to it with Sophia murmuring the tiniest "Thank you."

"Want another Twinkie?"

"Yay!"

* * *

About half an hour later an old, presumably once red pick-up truck pulled up in front of them and Daryl recognized the driver's puffy face from the hospital and the guy frowned at him almost hostilely. From the passenger seat, though, a pair of big, blue eyes stared at him with surprise. The face they belonged to looked quite familiar, too, and he felt a dumb smirk lifting the right corner of his mouth, before the driver door being slammed shut caused him to look up at the guy stomping towards him. "Get the hell away from my daughter!"

Daryl had gotten up on his feet before the asshole could even finish his sentence. But instead of checking on his little girl, he approached Daryl and obviously not to thank him.

"Ed!" Carol shouted out but her top-priority was her daughter and she almost fell on her knees as she dragged into the most relieved embrace. She stroke over her head and cupped her face, tears of joy glistening in her eyes at her reunion with her perfectly unharmed daughter. It would have been a heart-melting sight even for Daryl if Ed's body hadn't blocked the view.

"What did you do to her?" Ed growled and seized Daryl by the collar – which he was strangely glad about. He'd love to be given a reason to smash that douche's face!

"Fuckin' nothin'! Get ya hands off me!"

"Dad! Stop! Please! He helped me!" Sophia cried, while Carol tried to shield her from the two struggling men.

People were already staring and awkwardly keeping their distance as Daryl broke free, pushing Ed away. "Damn right I did! Now, if you'd watch out for ya little girl instead o' harassin' friendly strangers, she might've never ran away from ya in the first place!" he spitted out with disgust and anger, then turned to leave because seriously – he had wasted enough time on them already.

"Ed! Leave him alone, let's head home, please" he heard Carol begging before her husband grabbed him by the upper arm.

"This is _my_ family, you punk. What I do and don't with 'em is none of your-…" Daryl's fist to his face cut him off. Ed stumbled backwards, holding his chin with surprise but Daryl didn't give him the time to understand what was happening. He dashed forward and seized him by the collar, ready to break his face with a headbutt and the only thing that kept him from doing it was Carol's pleading in the background.

"You listen to me, fat ass!" Daryl snarled at him, almost like an animal ready to tear its prey apart. "I know deadbeat wimps like you and I know what you do behind closed doors to feel like you're boss or somethin' and ya right, that is none of my goddamn business. I don't know what ya did that got your wife into hospital. I don't know what ya did that ya kid's rather starvin' on the streets than livin' under the same roof and you best pray I never find out – 'cause next time you get into my face, I'll make sure not even ya own momma will recognize it!" He let go off him by shoving him against his truck. Someone yelled something about calling the cops. Daryl snorted and turned away. "Told ya to keep ya hands off me…"

And with that he left.

* * *

"Hey, brother, I'm back!"

The abandoned apartment that the Dixon brothers were currently calling their home responded with a concerning, pressuring kind of silence. Merle wasn't the quiet type and when he was – it was because he was gone.

"Merle?" His stash was gone, as well. Just like his gun. He thought about those thugs Merle considered to be _his guys_. _Oh fuck._

Daryl didn't think twice. He spun on his heels and got his ass back on Merle's bike. There were two, maybe three places he could've gotten to, one of them being a shady bar at the heart of Atlanta. You couldn't find it, if you didn't know where to look for it and if Merle thought he had something big going on – it'd be there.

He got there. He even found Merle there. What he hadn't expected though, was to find the two of them in middle of a downright turf war. It got ugly. Strikes got blown and gunshots fired, while Merle insulted everything that had a face on it. Daryl had no idea how they made it through the following three days, being on the run, literally fighting for their lives, pissing off some cops while they were at it – it was insane, really.

It ended rather abruptly, though.

They were hiding in some alleyway, somewhere in the northern outskirts of the city, when a few gunshots pierced through the air and Merle's shoulder. He sank down with a cry, getting Daryl to jump into a fighting stance and with an odd mixture of survival instinct and straight out panic ravaging his haunted being. Merle wasn't moving. And he couldn't make out the shooter. _What the hell-…_

Luckily, he wasn't given enough time to lose his shit. A bullet burned its way along his temple and the impact was enough to send him to the ground and have him join his brother there. He wasn't able to catch his fall but the collision with the asphalt was merely a dull hit compared to the hot, pulsating, stinging, mind-hazing pain his skull threatened to break under. Sticky, hot blood trickled down his face. His entire body was shaking with adrenaline, but he didn't dare to make a move. He kept staring at his bleeding brother, crippled by the doubt about whether or not he was hallucinating him still breathing. But he didn't move. Playing dead was probably the only chance he had left at this point. He might as well take it.

* * *

Again, Daryl Dixon had no idea how the hell he ended up in the hospital. He remembered someone sticking a needle into his arm and it had probably contained some sort of tranquilizer because there was no way he would have let anyone touch him while he was still somewhat conscious. And yet, someone must have stitched and patched up his grazing shot wound at some point.

He was sitting on a hospital bed, staring into nothingness while he was waiting to hear from his brother. They said he was alive and that he'd probably make it. Daryl wouldn't believe that until he saw it.

_Fuck him sideways_, this needed to stop. They couldn't just keep on living like that. Literally. He wanted out. He had wanted out before. It hadn't worked back then. This time, he didn't even have to do anything; he could've just given up, made a wrong move, had someone else shooting his brain out for him. Ugly but quick.

He was so sick and tired of trying and fighting. And yet he couldn't stop himself.

"So you come here often?"

Daryl looked up. With that black eye and the busted lip, he didn't recognize her right away, but it was Carol. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who went through hell during the last few days.

He snorted cynically.

"Sorry. Just tried to be funny."

"'Twas" he assured her.

She smiled faintly and lifted up the tray she was holding to direct his attention to it. "The cafeteria was about to close already but I got some granola bars from the vending machine. So if you're interested…"

"Sure" he replied lamely and Carol walked into his room and placed the tray on the night stand. She glanced over her shoulder, shyly observing him, maybe wondering on how to fill the silence.

"I never got to thank you."

"What?" he looked at her with mild confusion.

"For finding my little girl."

"Acually, 'twas the other 'round." A crooked smirk briefly lifted the right corner of his mouth.

"I knew it." Carol smiled and turned her body towards him. She took his hands into hers and bent over him, which got him jerking back at first, eying her skeptically, and she hesitated for a few moments of rather mutual insecurity. She bent down a little further and pressed a feathery kiss on his nose.

"What the-...?" Daryl looked up at her with bewilderment. "You're hella weird, you know that, lady?"

"_You_ are a good person, Daryl." She squeezed his hands lightly. "Please, don't give that up."

**/END**

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**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

_author's note:_  
I don't even know what this is. A snapshot from a random AU, that has been haunting me for quite some time now and just needed to get out, perhaps. AKA brainfart. I've got more of that in store, so beware!  
I hope you guys enjoyed it at least a little. Please feel free to leave your thoughts in the box below!  
Also: stay safe everyone!


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